Word: eying
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...chauffeured car, and out hopped the familiar figure-not quite as pudgy, not quite as ebullient-but undeniably Nikita Khrushchev. Eager Soviet citizens and reporters swarmed around him, anxious to know how he felt. "I feel just like a pensioner," Nikita replied huskily with a tear in his eye. "All right. All right...
...grey Rolls parked opposite: the Duchess of Windsor, 68. In a fourth-floor sitting room, the two women, both dressed in properly cheerful red, met by the chair of Edward, Duke of Windsor, 70, sitting up for the first time in three weeks after a series of eye operations. What was said in 25 minutes-at the first meeting since Edward abdicated his throne to marry the Manhattan divorcee-was "very private but very pleasant indeed." The Queen drove away laughing and talking gaily to an aide...
...afford to place quality first. The day when donors' private collections were hung in toto is past; the Met insists on constantly upgrading as finer examples become available. Also past are the days when objects were crammed together in unlighted Victorian display cases. To catch the eye of the young (1,000 schoolchildren a day visit the Met by appointment), the museum inaugurated one of the first children's museums in the U.S., with spinning color charts, and a movie of unwrapping a mummy that fascinates even adults...
...thesis: "The creative person has a special gift: his private vision of the world." The cycle of half-hour programs has already premiered over 20 of the U.S.'s largest NET channels, will eventually be carried by all 90 of them. The opener, "A James Thurber's-Eye View of Men, Women and Less Alarming Creatures," was a resourceful, rousing revue adapted from the author's work. This week's show focuses fascinatingly on Household Poet-Critic John Ciardi; among its vignettes: a sound track of the artist reading his own domestic verse ("Men marry what...
...terror, the nuttiest characters naturally turn out to be saner than anyone else. But there is rich menace in the dark, lushly mossy photography of Joseph Biroc, whose camera seems to have a malevolent presence of its own-a thing of shadows, catching the glint of an evil eye through the gossamer of steamed windows or sweeping up a curved balustrade that coils into the blackness below like an enormous question mark...